Sprinter van saves the day in a pinch

For days, I had waited.

At last, the night grew black. The wind howled. The temperature plummeted. The snow began.

Quiet and focused as a fighter in his corner before the first bell, I waited.

Schools closed. Businesses were shuttered. Stories of icy mishaps filled the airwaves. I waited, knowing my moment would come. Flights were grounded. Long stretches of interstate highways were closed.

I waited.

Finally, not long after the crack of dawn, as I surveyed my achromatic backyard, and wondered why dogs are compelled to revel in frozen powder, the call came.

Our beloved Ruth, mother of Beautiful Blonde Bride, had fallen ill and needed medicine. Someone must traverse the frozen tundra left in the wake of the great blizzard of ’18, gather her prescription at the pharmacy and rescue her from the throes of flu.

Finally, the game was afoot. I had known someone would need assistance, and I was ready.

In the driveway sat the world’s most dependable and agile delivery machine, a diesel-powered, four-wheel-drive, half-ton, 2017 Mercedes Benz Sprinter Van, nearly 20 feet long and six feet wide, capable of hauling 8,000 lbs. and towing 5,000 more.

Yeah, that’s the right tool for the job.

Its 24.5-gallon fuel tank was full, and that was plenty. The Sprinter 2500 equipped with Mercedes’ turbocharged and intercooled V-6 diesel delivers a consistent 17-21 mpg, according to fuelly.com, which gathers real-world economy data from real owners.

I had already tested its surprisingly capable 4WD. Odd looking off-road—sort of like a bulbously pregnant Jeep Wrangler—but well within its skill set. The stability- and traction-control systems team to sense a spinning wheel, brake it and send torque to the wheels with traction.

Equally impressive was the crosswind assist, which keeps the tall van well planted, even when dancing with 18-wheelers at highway speed. The system works with the vehicle’s stability control program to apply brakes to individual wheels to mitigate wandering caused by high winds or sudden gusts.

I was sure the truck would fire up when I turned the key. In England, Mercedes-Benz Van was the Most Reliable Manufacturer and the Sprinter the Most Reliable Van. In this years’ FN50 reliability study of the 50 biggest UK leasing companies. The Sprinter won the title for the third time in a row.

The study was based on actual breakdown and warranty claims figures from almost 250,000 vans.

Most of all, the big van won our confidence because it is just so competent in a Germanic way. It’s not exactly a sports car, but the ride and handling feel solid, responsive. Yeah, it takes a little longer to brake, but it drives nicely.

Inside, things are laid out logically, and with minimal clutter, sort of like a good mechanic’s work bench.

With the 4WD, which can be switched between rear-drive and a 35/65 front/rear torque split, with the touch of a button, the Sprinter receives a 4.3-inch boost ground clearance. I became aware of this the first time I attempted to exit the vehicle and my left leg kept going down, down, down. I was headed face first into a pile of rocks when I finally caught myself and, doing my best drunken old man imitation, stumbled into the parking lot. I was so happy no one saw that.

“Sir, sir? Are you alright sir?”

When did I become a sir?

With 319 cubic feet of cargo room, there was not only enough room for Ruth’s prescriptions, there was also room for Oreo, the world’s only 75-lb. Shih Tzu. He was essential because, well, what would a treacherous tale be without a clever, courageous, and cute canine?

Though I struggled to master ingress and egress, beautiful Blonde and Oreo preferred the optional, electric sliding step ($979 and worth every penny) below the passenger-side sliding door. Both bride and dog were soon adept at stepping through to the front and perching themselves on the ample front passenger seat.

Indeed, that became Oreo’s “spot.” We know Oreo’s mom was a Shih Tzu, but all we can ascertain about his paternity is that it was a big dog, with black and white colors, and that it justified its existence on this planet as a guard dog.

As does Oreo. Hint: never make a quick move toward Beautiful Bride. Oreo will intervene. Once he found his “spot” in that truck, he sat up as alertly as a Doberman protecting Fort Knox.

We braved the treacherous low spot on McKnight Road, cruising through as straight as an arrow in flight. We crossed the glacier that had Richmond Road in its grip as sure-footed as Mikhail Baryshnikov en pointe. On the I-30 surface road, we encountered ice as solid and smooth as the arena in Lake Placid where America defeated Russia for the 1980 hockey gold.

By Southern standards, the storm had been massive, dumping nearly an inch in places. The truck plowed right through it all. While I hummed a manly tune, Oreo kept a sharp watch for packs of wolves, or bears.

At the pharmacy, as I was walking into the store, out of the corner of my eye I noticed

two young men parking next to the big red Merc.

“Roah! Roah! Roah! Roah,” Oreo told them as he made the van rock with indignation. “This is Dad’s truck and you better stay away!”

I just looked down and pretended it was someone else’s van.

When I returned, I noticed the men had moved their car. Oreo was still sitting up on high alert, immensely proud of himself.

“Good boy,” I told him. What else was I going to say?

Soon the vital medicine was delivered—another hole punch in my man card attained

“Did you get Mom her medicine?” Beautiful Bride asked as we walked into door.

“Aye,” I answered in my most Nanook-of-the-North tone.

Oreo returned to his bed in front of the fireplace, located his favorite rib-eye bone and settled down for a long, winter’s chew.

He was quite proud of himself.

As was I.